


your true self

by atonalremix



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, F/M, Persona 5 Spoilers, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atonalremix/pseuds/atonalremix
Summary: The Detective Prince is hired by one of Japan's up-and-coming elite youth to catch a cheating girlfriend in the act - and when Goro realizes just who he's trailing, he also realizes that he's taken on an extraordinary job.





	your true self

As far as assignments went, trailing the young Sugimura's significant other was beneath Goro's pay grade. Initially, he figured that he would have rejected the offer. He had solved enough cases to deny inconsequential, mundane files with a clear-cut story. 

Yet the name tied to the simple assignment had given him pause. See, the Sugimuras were one of Tokyo’s premier political families. They ran for offices in Parliament with each election – and they won. Their name alone was worth its weight in gold. 

He couldn’t afford to piss them off without hearing them out, at the very least. Against his better judgment and pride, he had called up their youngest son and listened to that brat's grating voice for what felt like forever. His teeth must've been gnashing something fierce too, given how often Sugimura had to repeat himself. He had to think of the potential connections and favors one job would grant him. 

Goro had sighed, “If you really think she’s cheating on you, you should just–”

“Just what? Wait for her to break off the engagement?” Sugimura had sneered at him. “I came to you because you’re the Detective Prince. This should be a piece of cake.”

His hands were still trembling as he clutched his thin smartphone. Sure, Goro had built up his entire reputation on them: the spouses that disappeared in thin air, the job offers that never arose, and the missing animals that emerged in rural slaughterhouses. This case wouldn’t take long to solve. Sugimura wasn’t exactly wrong. But Goro also had his after-school job at the precinct, college entrance exams for which he had to study, and the promise of a normal life awaiting him at the very end. 

He shouldn’t have entertained another mundane job. It could've been offered to any other average Joe, with no purpose or fanfare. Perhaps that overconfidence - that desperate need for the vast amounts of yen - was what prompted Goro to even entertain the idea. As shady as this offer felt, as unethical as Sugimura's demands felt, Goro couldn’t afford to refuse it. 

Despite his immense pride, Detective Princes still needed to polish their college applications and replenish their quickly depleting bank accounts. He couldn't live off apples and cup noodles for much longer without turning into a bundle of salt. Worse, the Sugimuras had enough clout to get him into any college he wanted. If Goro wanted to attend the most prestigious schools in the country, a reference letter from Sugimura would be a golden ticket into any academic institution. The mere name would open up doors that his extracurriculars couldn't.

“Yeah, of course,” he had finally conceded with his usual vacant, polite smile that never reached his eyes. Time to swallow that pride and satisfy this jerk. “Like you said. A piece of cake.”

 

 

On paper, the assignment was simple. Sugimura wanted him to track the whereabouts of his fiancée - a third-year Shujin Academy student - and “babysit her” for a few evenings. Why the guy couldn’t have hired a babysitter or bodyguard instead, Goro would never know. It would’ve certainly been cheaper than Goro's hefty (and hourly) investigator fee. 

Instead of attending cram school like every other kid, or assisting Sae-san with one of her other, more-pressing cases, here he was, in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Tokyo. If only his past-self could see him and sneer at how low he’d fallen. 

The main prerogative (and urgency behind this assignment) was to determine if the target had a secret boyfriend. Honestly, Goro doubted it. From the photos he had been given of her tending to gardens and purchasing tea at local cafés, his target - Haru Okumura - was the least likely person to have a secret lover. Her tenuous romantic relationship aside, she had good grades, wealth, and a stable home life. 

She wouldn’t ruin it all to slip beneath the shadows and steal the chance to love some mysterious stranger. 

Still, a job was a job. After Shujin's dismissal bell, Goro found himself waiting at the train station outside Shujin Academy. He even had those stereotypical binoculars and blank legal pads, just in case he needed to take notes. All because he couldn’t tell some rich asshole no, he wasn’t actually interested in solving cases! 

(“A case is like a multi-layered puzzle,” he had said on TV the other day, repeating some jargon he’d overheard from the actual detectives. “It’s satisfying to watch all the pieces fit together and complete the picture, so to speak.”)

Yeah, right. Past-Goro was a fraud, waiting for a neon light to expose him in brilliant daylight. Current-Goro was just the moron who needed the cash to pay next month’s rent.

He groaned, adjusting his viewing position and watching students pile into the trains like sardines. At this rate, with students pushing and pressing on each other to fit into those giant metal tubes, he was never going to catch his target. let alone her whereabouts. 

“Just my luck…”

In the distance, he spotted a pink fluffy sweater amongst a sea of black blazers, headed straight for Shibuya Station. Goro blinked back genuine surprise, stuffing his binoculars and legal pad straight into his briefcase. 

There she was! And if he hurried, he just might see where she spent her afternoons! 

 

 

Upon reaching the station, Goro lost sight of that giant, poofy sweater. Too many schoolkids, too many salarymen heading home…. too many people, period. He shoved his way through the crowd, shouldering his way to the front, not particularly caring if his hard-earned reputation would be ruined by such boorish behavior. 

He wasn’t playing Detective Prince. Hell, he wasn’t even fulfilling a proper role - he was some rich kid’s pawn in a game of cat and mouse, and only the sweet smell of money kept him running. 

“If I were a teenage girl,” he murmured to himself, upon reaching the Teikyu building and turning towards the doors, “Where would I go…?” 

Harajuku, maybe? Or to some of the themed cafes popping up in Shinjuku? Okumura-san loved food, especially if it was beautifully plated with ornate flower petals and sugar drizzles for all to witness. It was one of the few traits he admired about her. If he could even call it admiring.

No, he’d last seen that sweater heading towards the Underground Mall. Takamaki-san spent more than a few afternoons there herself, and Kitagawa-san often watched people by the vegetable juice stand in the walkway. Goro only remembered from unfortunate run-ins. 

(They just had to be friendly! They just had to wave at him and call out, “Akechi-kun!” as if it were no big deal, and Takamaki-san and Kitagawa-kun had those stupid smiles plastered on their faces as they included him in whatever they were doing. Like he could… like he could say no to such idiocy.) 

He picked up the pace and turned towards the long staircase descending into the station. No sense in running into the other Thieves again. 

“Akechi-kun?” Okumura-san was staring straight at him, her phone held tentatively in both hands. The screen glowed a bright, unmistakable shade of red — 

_Beginning navigation._

The sky faded into that same deep red around, and an uneasy sensation washed over Goro’s bones as he realized that Haru Okumura was no ordinary target, and he had accepted no ordinary job. 

 

 

He had never visited the Metaverse with another witness present. Goro cursed under his breath as he ducked behind the nearest ticket counter. With his luck, Okumura-san had already noticed the midnight-black clothes that shimmered onto him like a second skin, or the black mask that always adorned his face. 

In a bustling, teeming palace like Mementos, they were a threat before they even set foot on the railroad tracks.

“Huh…” Okumura-san said, glancing around her. “I could’ve sworn I saw him right in front of me.”

“Who did you see, Haru-chan?” An all-too familiar feline voice squeaked from the escalators behind her.

“Oh, Mona-chan!” Okumura-san laughed, rushing towards him, and in turn, the escalators. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” 

“If you say so.” The cat’s tone was skeptical. Too skeptical for something that cute. “Let’s go already!” 

With the cat’s enthusiastic yowling, and the roar of an engine (?!), those two morons descended into the depths of Mementos. Goro waited until they were far out of earshot before he allowed himself a breath. 

Good. They hadn’t seen him. 

But now he couldn’t give his client the truth. Far from it, actually, if this girl was a Persona User wandering with the cat from Leblanc. Worse: if those two were here, stealing the hearts and desires of the common people of Tokyo, the others wouldn’t be far behind. 

Goro drew a breath and with shaking, trembling hands, pulled out his phone. “Return to the real world.”

The dark, dimly-lit station pulsed around him, fading back into the stark, sterile walls and tiles he had known for years. His skintight suit, too, faded into his school uniform, and as he fell to his knees, he couldn’t quite help the desperate laugh that escaped his lips.

What was he supposed to tell Sugimura now? 

 

 

This should have been a simple job. 

Private investigators like him knew how to handle cheating spouses or significant others. All he had to do was snap a few compromising pictures, confirm some time stamps with either phone records or surveillance footage, and the client had all the necessary evidence to drag someone in a court of law. 

Problem was, Okumura-san was no cheating spouse, and Goro sure couldn’t expose the Metaverse to a random civilian. 

No one would believe the truth. Goro sure as heck wouldn’t have, and he had witnessed her transformation firsthand. So he needed a sensible answer, one that would both clear her innocence and ensure his next payment. If Okumura-san were a window shopper or procrastinating painter, the lie would have been easier to fabricate. 

The simple candids would have kept her in the clear. Sugimura would’ve cleared Goro a check for an obscene amount of money, and that would’ve been the end of that.

As Goro leaned against the wall, he stared out into the thinning crowd. Back before he had fabricated his resume as a detective prince, he used to fabricate stories for everyone that passed him. Their clothes, their body language, and even their slightest mannerism told a story, and Goro was only filling in the missing pieces. 

If he were watching Okumura-san as if she were in the middle of a crowd, he would have sensed her calm, approachable aura first, long before her propensity for florals and cute patterns. She had even smelled of roses and fresh dirt, though that might have been his overactive imagination. Although she walked alone, she held her head up high, and kept moving forward with purpose. She hadn’t lingered to window shop like Takamaki-san, nor did she frame others in potential compositions like Kitagawa-san. She didn’t even hide behind others like Sakura-san,or behind thick-rimmed glasses like Amamiya-san. She was her own person, free of deceit and lies. 

She would continue to _be_ her own person, if Goro had anything to say about it. 

Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and called up his client. 

“Hi, Sugimura-san,” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm and even, like he was conducting a bland TV interview. “I’m still gathering evidence. Give me more time, and by the end of the week, I’ll know exactly what your fiancee’s been up to.” 

 

 

The next two days, Okumura-san (and that darn cat) returned again and again to the depths of Mementos. Goro skulked behind them, tugging on his black gloves and forcing himself to remain in the shadows. 

He was an observer. As long as he wore this costume, he would _always_ be an observer. 

Okumura-san, with that cat’s coaching, had wielded an axe and plunged it into monsters’ hearts. Her stance staggered with hesitation, and her execution (literally) was imperfect. Her feet were frozen in place with the beginning of each battle. 

“It’s okay, Beauty Thief!” Mona-chan would announce, swooping into save her with his flimsy swashbuckling sword. “We’ll get it next time.” 

Somehow, Goro really doubted that. 

Monster after monster followed them, from the flitting Pixies to the slimy… well, Slimes, without a hint or second of remorse. The first few times, Okumura-san had held her axe with both hands, plunging its blade straight down the middle. 

By the tenth battle, her shoulders were sagging and her knees were buckling down with exhaustion. She couldn’t keep this up, not even with that cat’s healing spells and overenthusiastic cheerleading. 

The Lamia had cackled at them, waving its hands and chanting the words necessary to set the entire battleground, train tracks and Okumura-san included, ablaze and — 

Goro pulled out his favorite light saber, turning on his heel and thrusting his blade right into the Lamia’s heart. The blinding, blue light illuminated the station, and in turn, him and his stupid costume. 

Its flesh sizzled upon contact with the burning light. It screamed with agony as he wedged the blade in deeper. It squirmed and squirmed; he held his ground, ignoring the thumping of his own heart. 

Worse: Okumura-san was staring at the blade, at the sizzling flesh, at his own movement through the shadows. 

Goro couldn’t stay - not when the light had just exposed him. So he ran, letting both Lamia and precious light saber tumble down to the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Wow!” The cat whistled, almost purring as Goro ran out of earshot, “Look at that, Beauty Thief! You did it!” 

“O-oh,” she was saying, her voice growing faint, “I um, I guess I really did.” 

 

 

By the time Goro had hightailed it out of Mementos and returned to the real world, the setting sun was at the edge of the horizon, and the sky was filled with streaks of yellow and red. He had been in the Metaverse longer than he had thought, even by his own estimates. 

He was no closer to fabricating a lie, either, even after trailing Okumura-san into another world. He lacked the skills to Photoshop her beside a store display window, let alone fabricate time stamp and text conversations with a third party that would vouch for her innocence. 

This worry was troubling. If Goro couldn’t clear her name, then Sugimura would still pay him. His bank account would remain in the black, and Sugimura would undoubtedly call upon him for smaller, more discreet jobs. 

Okumura-san should’ve been one more target in a whole sea of them. He should’ve snapped the picture in the station, then and there, and expose her secret commute home. 

Yet two whole days later, he still cared. This deep, unsettling feeling bothered him. 

As he let out a sigh, folding his arms, Okumura-san re-emerged from the long staircase, dusting her skirt and tights off. She came to a halt beside him, and for a moment, as their eyes once again met, neither of them moved. 

“Akechi-kun.” Okumura-san spoke first, drawing in a breath as she stood beside him. “You’ve been out here a while.”

“Ah, Okumura-san.” Goro forced a laugh as he turned to face her. “Yeah, I had business in the area. It only just wrapped up.” 

If only because said business was standing beside him, gripping her sweater with tight, pale-white knuckles. Her fingers - no, her entire body was trembling, even as she too leaned against the wall. 

“I see.” Her voice was quiet. She furrowed her brow, regarding him with a long, intense look. “What kind of case was it?”

“Honestly, a boring one.” He shot her a genuine smile, daring for her to laugh along with him. “It took more time than it deserved.”

Okumura-san stared at him. “Boring?”

“Well, yes.” He drew his gaze up towards the sky, twirling his fingers with the clouds. “The media talks about my more high-profile cases, but the bulk of my work happens to be more mundane. Jilted lovers, missing people and pets, that sort of thing.”

A wave of silence fell over them. The idle chatter of the crowds, the footsteps clacking against the floor - none of that mattered next to the slow rising and falling of Okumura-san’s shoulders. She clutched the edges of her sweater tighter, ignoring the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

“Oh. I suppose that kind of work wouldn’t involve children’s toys?” 

Goro furrowed his brow. “Come again?”

She held out the glowing (and now, very firmly plastic) light saber, holding it out towards him like one might an olive branch. 

“It has your name on the hilt, Akechi-kun.” She furrowed her brow. “You’ve been following me for a while, haven’t you?”

Goro stared at the glowing blue light saber, then back up at Okumura-san. 

He had been careless. Reckless, even, in leaving that stupid thing behind where she could’ve picked it up and held onto it. For the first time in years, he couldn’t find a witty comeback, let alone some plausible deniability. 

She had seen him. She had witnessed him acting as more than an observer, and she was trembling because of him and his stupidity. As if someone like him were worthy of her fear and apprehension. 

He swallowed down his own misgivings, finally daring to ask, “How did you know?” 

“I’m - I’m not that good at fighting yet,” she admitted, her face growing even redder by the second. “I knew the Lamia would’ve defeated me if someone else hadn’t intervened, and just a few days ago, I saw you when I activated the app and…”

“And you put two and two together,” he finished, wincing at himself. 

Haru nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Have _you_ told anyone about the Metaverse?” He countered, feeling defensive. “I - I didn’t know how you would’ve taken me knowing about it too.” 

“That’s fair,” she conceded, allowing herself a breath. “But Akechi-kun… you should’ve shown yourself to me sooner. It would've been nice to have fought alongside you."

She really wouldn’t have. No one wanted to meet the man in the black mask, waving his gun in their face and pressing the edge right between their eyes. No one wanted to meet their death, lest of all when it was in a mere teenager’s hands. Even mafia bosses cowered before his looming presence, wailing and gnashing their teeth like small children. Everyone's pleas were the same. No one wanted to die. No one wanted him in their hands, let alone in their fates.

This unwavering conviction in him - in the false savior that she was imagining - felt wrong. Goro hadn’t done anything to deserve it. 

“Maybe someday,” he found himself saying, against his better judgment, as he smiled at her. “When I’m ready to show you my true self.”

“I think you already have.” 

Goro wanted to scoff at that terrible, delusional belief. No one, not even Sae-san at the precinct saw his true self. Everyone would have run in fear if they knew the disgust and disdain he carried on his shoulders. Most of all, Okumura-san would have run. 

(Any sane, normal girl would’ve run.)

She shouldn’t have relaxed by his side, intertwining her fingers in his as if their friendship was a normal occurrence. She shouldn’t have squeezed his hand and offered him a smile in return, one that was as bright as the remnants of the setting sun. 

He ignored the unsettling, queasy feeling in his stomach, just as he ignored his sweaty palms. 

“No, I haven’t,” he confessed, closing his eyes. His bank account was going to hate him for this, if Sugimura didn’t get to him first. but he needed to clear the air. “Your fiancé asked me to trail you to see - I don’t know, if you’re cheating on him with a secret boyfriend. _That’s_ why I’ve been following you this whole time.”

“Really?” Okumura-san laughed into his shoulder. “Now there’s a thought.”

“Really, but you shouldn’t entertain the idea,” he said with a small, exasperated huff. “He clearly isn’t in his right mind.”

Ignoring the numerous delusions running through Sugimura’s head, that oaf was downright possessive, acting as if Okumura-san were more like his doll than his partner in life. Hell, the mere thought of them _marrying_ made Goro’s blood boil. He couldn’t even pinpoint why, just that it did.

“So…” Okumura-san trailed off, not letting go of his hand. “If you hate working for him that much, why’d you take the job?”

Goro sighed. “I needed the money.”

Were she anyone else, he might have deflected the question and turned it back on her. But he didn’t feel like fighting his reputation today, and he was already participating in honesty hour. He might as well confess the rest of his sins while he was at it. 

Despite the lingering silence, and the loss of light from the sky above, Okumura-san squeezed his hand again.

“It’s okay.” Her voice was soft, yet full of resolve. “We’ll just have to get the proof you need now, right?”

“Wh-what?” Goro’s voice actually squeaked as he peered back at her. She had better not be saying what he thought she was saying. His target _wanted_ to help him? This had to be a first. “Okumura-san, no. Absolutely not.” 

She giggled, though whether it was at his face or him, he couldn’t tell. “Well, what were you going to tell him?”

“I’m working on it.” He couldn’t lie around her, and he was really starting to hate it. His filters and mental barriers existed for a reason. “I’ve got until tomorrow, so… you know. I’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t have to be home for another hour.” Okumura-san looked almost thoughtful. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Goro had no protocol, let alone plan of action — he wasn’t in a position to outright refuse Okumura-san, not when she had living proof of his Metaverse abilities. Nor was he (and his empty wallet) in a position to turn Sugimura down. 

Against his better judgment, and frankly, the last shreds of his pride, Goro sighed, throwing up his hands in the air. 

“Fine. Your funeral,” he conceded, holding up a couple of fingers at Okumura-san’s impromptu cheering. “But we need to make it look candid. Like you have absolutely no idea I’m even here.”

She shot him a sly smile, intertwining her fingers in his again as she led him into the nearest café. “Somehow, I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that.”

 

 

“I bet your costume’s all white,” Okumura-san was saying in between sips of her earl grey tea. “Like... like you’re an actual Prince, and not just a Detective Prince.”

“I’m wounded.” Goro found himself laughing, standing just far enough to take a few candid shots (and in turn, ensuring that he wasn’t in the frame). “I’m no Prince. Far from it, actually.”

“Yes, you are. You saved me back there. Any one would've called you a prince.”

Goro pressed a couple of buttons, taking a shot of her beaming face. “You're being too kind. I did what anyone else would've done in my position, Okumura-san.” 

For a split second, a melancholic expression colored her face. “Haru.” 

He blinked back surprise, pulling his camera down, “Huh?”

“I think we’re on a first name basis now, don’t you think?”

There really was no understanding this girl. First she’s delusional, and now she wants him to forego all sense of formality. As if they had been hanging out together all this time, and as if his camera wasn’t in the way of her ordinary activities. As if they had been friends from the very beginning. As if they were Goro and Haru, rather than Detective Prince and Okumura Heir. As if... as if they were normal.

“If you say so,” he murmured, his voice feeling warm and soft as he adjusted the lens, “Haru-san.”

Her wide, radiant smile in turn was kind of cute. If he was into that sort of thing.

 

 

That Friday, Sugimura received a packet full of pictures: café and restaurant tastings, window shopping, and garden viewings. Okumura-san was a girl in a sea of people in Shibuya Station, her lone pink sweater standing out in a sea of black suits and navy school uniforms. She held her head up high, and she walked with purpose. Her hangouts would have to change, now that her fiancé knew where they were, but her knowing, patient smile was visible in every single frame. Despite Goro trying his best, she had managed to find him every single time - and she didn’t seem to care, inviting him to join the frame.

The recommendation letter emailed to various universities, along with the amount of money that was deposited in Goro’s bank account the following day wasn’t quite enough to offset that quiet, all-knowing smile. Just in case, he made copies of those pictures for himself. If only to remind himself what that time had felt like – and how he couldn’t afford to stay with her. No matter how much he wanted to.

“ _I am thou, thou art I..._ ” he murmured, feeling the pricks of memory in the back of his head. Like a voice other than his own deep down inside was telling him this, “ _Thou hast acquired a new vow. It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity..._ ”

He frowned, tracing his fingers over the edge of the photograph. “Wings of rebellion... What a stupid idea.”

These photos would be just that: photos. No memories, no dreams attached to them, and most importantly - no vows or winds of blessings that shall lead to freedom and new power. Not when he had given Haru the exact opposite. 

 

Weeks later, when he had summoned Robin Hood from the depths of his heart and traveled with the Thieves into the depths of Sae-san's Casino, Goro felt even more like a fraud. No black mask, no skin-tight costume - but a red mask and a white suit straight out of a child's fairy tale. How could he spin this off as someone's idea of rebellion? It sure wasn't his. He thinks. The back of his mind remembers a vow, a promise made upon a photo. 

The rational, sane part of his brain remembers otherwise, especially when the other Thieves leave the dirty chores to him. He made no such vow to them; they made no such vows to him. This time, said chore was keeping watch outside the Safe Room while everyone else rests and recharge (since, well, Joker was convinced they could knock out half the Casino in a day). Yet Haru-san slid through one of the doors and approached him outside the Safe Room with her typical radiant, warm smile.

“Told you so, Goro-kun.” She was practically bouncing on her toes as they lingered in front of the door, side-by-side. “Your costume even looks like a fairy tale!”

Goro fiddled with the long gold tassels hanging off his shoulder pads and laughed. She couldn't have been further from the truth. He was no prince, she was no princess, and their story wouldn’t have a happy ending. Those pictures were living proof of the space they would have to give each other.

(Her father, may he rest in peace, wouldn’t have stood for such an unharmonious union anyway.)

Yet he no longer had the heart to correct her as he brandished his light saber, still blindingly blue, and gave her a sweeping bow, one knee on the floor.

“I guess you did, my princess,” he conceded, not once taking his eyes off her. 

Haru's eyes shone, her breath leaving her as her entire face burned a bright red. “Princess? My, that's a little much, don't you... think...?”

The smile Goro gave her, for the first time in his life, was unpracticed, with admiration he used to hide from the world. “Not at all. It's just right.”

“Oh...” Her voice squeaked, in an unfairly cute way. “Um, thank you.”

In the months to come, his mask would break. He would taint each and every memory they shared. He would be every bit the villain she claimed she abhorred, and he would fight against her and the other Thieves with all the energy he could muster. He had no right, no claim to such a nickname let alone her adoration and foolish feelings of friendship, and he knew this, even as it escaped his lips and - 

_I am thou, thou art I... thou hast turned a vow into a blood oath. Thy bonds shall become the wings of rebellion and break the yoke of thy heart. Thoust has awakened to the ultimate secret–_

Goro could feel his stomach sink as he rose to face her, and not just because of how someone so calm and composed had started fidgeting on him. So Robin Hood had given him this costume for a reason – and as she bowed to him in turn, face burning a bright red, hands trembling, eyes shining like the stars, he couldn’t deny that this - this costume, this illusion, this giant stupid delusion, this blood oath forged on a promise of broken lies – was all for her.

He had awakened no such ultimate secret, especially not that of something so intimate like the Lovers. No, he had made a stupid, foolish vow, and he... He only wished he had seen it sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt and au, “i’m the private investigator that was hired by your ex to track you down and you totally caught me sitting outside your apartment in a rental car so hi what up”. It took a life of its own, so I really hope y'all enjoyed this one!


End file.
